


The Star of the Winds

by Maharetchan



Series: If you burn, I burn [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fem!Jon, Genderbending, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maharetchan/pseuds/Maharetchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They almost don't speak when they do it, their touches and their soft, muffled moans are enough to fill the silence, words are not needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Star of the Winds

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Just in case you wanna know, I picture her as Eva Green. Cause I love Eva Green.  
> 2\. The title comes from "Star of the Winds" by Irfan.  
> 3\. Written for the [asoiafkinkmeme](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/).  
> 4\. My first language is not English and I don't have an English beta reader. So please excuse the grammar mistakes that you'll probably find.  
> 5\. I love comments!

They almost don't speak when they do it, their touches and their soft, muffled moans are enough to fill the silence, words are not needed.  
The sun is still pale, the castle is still asleep and everything is quiet and peaceful: Theon wakes up and finds Joan in front of the window, looking at the sea that surrounds them, her white nightgown shining in the soft light, making her look almost unearthly.  
When he reaches her and hugs her from behind, she smiles, before turning around and kissing him, his hands already grabbing the nightgown and taking it off: she shivers in the cold room, her hands caressing his chest while kissing his jaw and his neck and he holds her close for a while before lifting her so she can sit on the windowsill.  
The first time he found her in front of the window so early in the morning, he thought she had a nightmare and got up to ask her what was wrong: he didn't expect her to kiss him hard and almost immediately starting to fight with his clothes, silencing him with her lips every time he tried to say something.  
Now it's a strange routine they have: sometimes they don't do it for months and sometimes they do it everyday and it's amazing how similar and different every time looks like the first one.  
Joan's hands are fighting with his breeches and just the light pressure of them against his groin is enough to make him hard: he caresses her face, her neck and his hands always feel so weirdly rough against her pale, soft skin, like he's hurting her even if he's not because she is not a frail flower; she makes him feel and think things no other woman was able to.  
Some mornings they just do it without wasting much time, she spreads her legs and he just fucks her against the window, but this time he wants it to be slow, wants to feel everything, wants to make her feel everything.  
She caresses his naked chest and smiles when he bites her neck, sucking on the mark and kissing her skin until she moans, her fingers tangling in his hair and massaging his scalp: when Theon's mouth starts sucking one of her nipples and his hand slides between his leg, she pulls his hair hard and bites her lips to silence herself.  
They kiss again and Joan's legs tangle around his waist, her body warm and soft in his arms, makes him want to do things to her he never thought you could or should do to your wife, things he used to do to the whores he fucked before he married her.  
Theon used to think wives were only good for bearing children: you do what you must with your wife and keep your desire, your imagination for the whores; he never expected a lady to be like Joan, who enjoyed sex as much as he did, who could be the perfect partner inside and outside the bed.  
It feels good, like being finally whole: she gave him more than just a wife and children, she gave him a real family, a place he can come back to, a place where he feels home, where he belongs.  
Her nails that scratch his back bring him back to the present and he finds her looking at him with an uncertain expression, like she wants to ask him what is wrong but doesn't want to break the moment speaking: he smiles and kisses her, moving his hands between her legs for a few more seconds, before removing it and spreading her legs farther, settling between them.  
Her hands caress his hair, she kisses him and holds him so close he can't even feel the cold air of the room against his skin anymore: there's only Joan, her body, her lips, everything.  
He moans against her neck, when her heat surrounds him.

He wakes up a couple of hours later and Joan is not in bed again, but the room is empty and the noises of the waking castle comes to his ears: a new days started, he tells himself as he gets up.  
He finds her in the great hall, sitting at her usual place: their younger baby, Arya, is still asleep in her arms, her sleeping and peaceful face pressed against her breast as Joan cuddles her, caresses her hair while their two older girls reclaim her attention.  
Lyanna, their first born, is already fully dressed in the casual clothes she wear when she wants to practice with him, and is saying something about a dream she had, while Daenerys, still half asleep, is quietly eating her breakfast and rubbing her eyes.  
Theon stays hidden for a few seconds, looking at his family, at his beautiful, perfect girls and feeling proud like, he's sure, his father never felt about him.  
But he's not his father and the smiles that open on his girls faces when they notice him, proves it.  
\- Good morning, father!-  
Theon ruffles Lyanna's hair and kisses Daenerys head, before sitting next to Joan, who passes him the baby without saying a word, but smiling her soft, knowing smile.  
He smiles back.


End file.
